Hard Work
by Aldebaran8423
Summary: Glitch struggles to integrate his current and former selves, a process that generates some uncomfortable side effects.


**Author:** Aldebaran

**Title:** Hard Work

**Length: **2839 words

**Status:** Complete

**Date Written:** June 14, 2009

**Disclaimer:** "Tin Man" and the characters associated with it belong to Imagiquest. This story was written for entertainment purposes only.

**Author's Note: **Written for the LJ Tinman100 drabble community challenge prompt number 24, "cabin", with the added encouragement of the moderators to *ahem* address adult themes (i.e. bring on the porn...) Characters include Glitch, Raw and rather vivid mentions of Azkadellia, DG and Cain. No pairing indicated-that's up to Glitch, you see. Reviews are oh so welcome.

oo0oo

Glitch felt the slight pressure lift, a tantalizing dance of some alien energy on his skin, as Raw drew his fingers back from Glitch's temple and cheek, slowing fraying the connection, mental and physical, between them. Glitch drew a deep breath, feeling the sudden and strange urge to prolong the contact by nestling his cheek into the Viewer's firm palm. He'd never felt that way before, during these long weeks of almost daily reintegration sessions.

He shook his head slightly, opening his eyes, feeling dizzy and oddly warm as he took in their surroundings, the familiar forest tones of the small room in the Palace where Raw had set up shop, where he counseled those with lingering aftereffects from the horrors inflicted by the Witch during her rule. The reign had been long, and brutal, and Raw did not lack for work.

Still, the Viewer had made Glitch his first priority. The best minds and magics in the O.Z. had determined that a physical reunion of Glitch with the missing portion of himself was an impossibility. It was Raw, suns bless him, who suggested it should be possible, with the Viewer as a conduit, to unite the two halves, drawing the essence of Ambrose from within his glass prison to dwell once again within his—Glitch's—body. Raw, ever honest, had warned of the dangers in the process, dangers to both himself and Glitch. Glitch, already halved, was torn again, not wanting to expose his friend to risk, yet yearning for the parts of himself that had been ripped away so long ago. And Raw…Raw would not be deterred.

Glitch found the solid figure of his salvation, across the room, turning the lights up.

"That felt, uh, different, than other times. Usually I can see bits and pieces of what we're doing. I didn't see anything this time. And I'm…." Glitch interrupted himself with a huge yawn. "Tired. Really, really tired." The scientist in him wanted to analyze these new sensations, determine what he had regained, but he had no energy, his typical inquisitiveness muted and dulled.

Raw stretched, hands at the back of his neck. "Delicate work. Deep. Long session." He opened the door to the corridor, and the windows across from the room were dark. Glitch started—they'd begun before noon. The whole day had slipped away in an instant.

"Eat. Sleep. Come tomorrow." Raw shooed him out, into the hallway. Glitch knew better than to be nonplussed at the abrupt dismissal. Raw had told him at the beginning of this that it was important for them to part quickly at the end of a session, to fully dissolve any lingering connection, so that Glitch would reintegrate only with himself, and not attempt to draw any threads of Raw into the reweaving.

Food, then, and sleep. He set off down the hall, still feeling flushed, a little disconnected. Had he heard a note of humor in Raw's voice, seen a slight smile flit across his face? They were both just tired, that had to be it… Come tomorrow, Raw said. There'd be time for questions then.

oo0oo

Glitch woke with the suns' rise the next morning…and discovered part of himself had woken long before. He was as aroused as he'd ever been in his life, clearly and suddenly remembering every instant of desire he'd ever felt before as Ambrose, interlaced with those he'd felt as Glitch, unfurled in his mind like a lurid tapestry of lust. Scents, sights, sounds, tastes…real and imagined, desired and fulfilled, phantom passes across his skin until he gasped and shuddered in alarmingly quick release. Before his head could ease back to the pillow, he was iron hard again, brimming toward climax and spilling over once more before he had a chance to contain himself.

Three more times he filled and released, until he was at last able to get out of bed without the movement of sheets across his body setting off catastrophic erotic reactions. By this time, he understood the reason for Raw's subtle amusement the day before, and his admonition to "come tomorrow" had taken on vast new meaning….

Glitch needed answers, and he needed them quickly. Dressing was another unsubtle sexually charged experience, best postponed until he was finally certain it was physically impossible for him to ruin his clothing yet again. That didn't stop his body from assuming a state of readiness anyway, and he rummaged in the closet for his flounciest coat so he could head through the halls of the Palace without his current state of-agitation-being readily apparent.

He burst into Raw's counseling room to find the Viewer seated at his ease, that same maddening almost-smile on his face.

"You knew this was going to happen! Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you warn me?" Glitch was livid, rigid with, well, with anger, he hoped, although there were definitely other factors at work.

"Wasn't sure," Raw replied. "Hard to be certain." And there was that smile again.

"Oh, it's hard, to be certain!" fumed Glitch. "I can't keep it from being hard! Just how am I supposed to live like this? How long is this going to keep happening?"

Raw's smile widened. "Could be days. Time not firm. "

Glitch glared. "Days? Days of this! Well, I can't stay here! I don't even know what I'll do around people." He was suddenly uncomfortably aware of Raw, the earthy scent of him and he recalled with a shiver the electricity of Raw's fingers against his temple, the roughened pads of his fingertips, the heat from his broad palm…

Raw had the grace not to grin wider. He got to his feet, slinging a rucksack over one shoulder and picking up another bag from where they had waited beside his chair. "Yes. Can't stay here. Made arrangements." He brushed by Glitch without really touching him, and Glitch was swept away, unable to move, lost in a rush of imagined sensation.

Raw gave up any pretension of grace as he smiled more broadly than Glitch had ever seen him, firing back his parting words: "You coming?"

oo0oo

Every jounce and sway of the small wagon was an exquisite agony, and Glitch ground out for the tenth time that day, "How long until we get there?"

"Another hour," answered Raw beside him on the wagon's seat. "Need to stop again?"

Glitch reddened in now familiar embarrassment. "No, I can make it. Where is this place exactly?"

"Little hunting cabin. In forest. By stream." Raw flicked a glance at him. "Quiet. Private. Just the thing."

"Whose is it? How'd you find out about it?" Conversation kept Glitch's mind off of…other things. The sun beat down, shining on the glossy hides of the two horses toiling ahead of them, pulling the wagon along at a brisk pace.

"Belongs to Queen. One of many. Used by palace staff, for retreat, vacation." Raw took a swig from a bottle, passing it to Glitch. "Asked around. DG. Azkadellia. Cain."

Oh gods, thought Glitch, unwilling to allow visions of his friends to enter into his unsettled thoughts, despite the quick tantalizing image each name had conjured. He and Raw had managed to slip out of the Palace unseen by anyone they knew that morning, and, Glitch thought, that was definitely a good thing. He practically snatched the bottle back, gulping water, trying to clear his mind of explicit visuals, forming questions instead, quickly, before he could be swept away into realms best left unexplored…

He asked the question he'd been avoiding all afternoon, giving Raw time to think and prepare. It hadn't been easy for Raw, these last weeks, to articulate some of the aspects of the process they were experiencing. Glitch had obviously never been through anything like it before, nor had Raw. They were in virg…uncharted territory, he hastily amended. "So, what's going on here? What's next?"

Raw accepted the water back, took another long pull. Glitch tried not to notice the way the muscles in his neck moved as he tipped his head back. Raw paused, perhaps searching for words to explain. "Before, just knowledge to retrieve. Facts. Sometimes, slightly deeper, feelings travel with information." He looked over at Glitch questioningly.

Glitch nodded. "I'm with you. Like layers. And there were times it was physical too, which is why you had me do all the exercises, the movements to accustom Ambrose to having a body again."

Raw nodded. "Just so. To set pattern. Make foundation. Now, deeper still. Facts, experience, memories, emotions…now sensation. Yes?"

Glitch sighed a gusty sigh. "Sensation most definitely yes…but why is it like this? I'm not a teenager, you know. I may not have been all there these last few years. But I…got around, while I was getting around." He stopped, embarrassed.

Raw nodded again. "But…Ambrose did not. Stuck. No body. Only memory of body. To exist, to survive, had to live in imagination. To stay…connected?"

Glitch shifted on the seat. They'd had to have this talk before, and doubtless would again. What was left of Ambrose, floating in the jar, cut off from human contact for years, had not been exactly sane on first reacquaintance. He and Raw had spent long hours discussing, deciding if it was safe to continue. Ambrose himself had provided the key to their persistence, when he'd whispered to them both, "Sometimes you have to go a little crazy to stay sane…." It was a feeling both Glitch and Raw could understand. And it served to explain also this storm of temporary sexual insanity…. Ambrose had clearly had a very vivid imagination.

But…Ambrose had never met Raw. Or Cain. Or the all too grown up woman that DG had become…

Glitch shifted on the seat again. The sun was hot. He was hotter. "How long until we get there?"

oo0oo

Someone had clearly prepared the cabin for their arrival. The shutters were open, it had been newly swept, the broom standing jauntily on the porch. Fresh linens were on the bottom bunk of the narrow bed, and small baskets of ripe fruits and crisp vegetables were arrayed on the kitchen table. Glitch took note of the lonely bed.

"Aren't you staying?" he asked, horrified at the plaintive note in his voice. Not wheedling, certainly. Merely plaintive.

Raw sent another smile in his direction. "No. This work best done… alone." He set the bags he carried down inside the door, and returned to the wagon to fetch the satchel of Glitch's clothes that they'd hastily packed that morning.

"Work?" Glitch stood in the center of the small room, anxious for company, anxious to be left in badly needed privacy. Just anxious.

Raw returned, depositing the satchel next to the other bags inside the door. He tipped his head to one side, giving a small nod. "Work. Learning who you are now. What you want. Learning… control. And important too. Learning to lose control."

He reached into the rucksack, tossed something that landed with a clink and a rustle of paper on the bed. That smile was back. "Back in ten days." He ducked out the door.

Glitch headed out, too, watching as Raw vaulted smoothly into the wagon's seat, catching the reins in his hands. The wagon turned in a surprisingly small circle, facing back, towards home. Glitch felt very small and alone, standing in the empty doorway.

Raw tapped the horses lightly with the reins, and his teeth flashed in a sudden smile. "Be fine, Glitch. No worry." The wagon gritted away on the dirt trail, with a creak of wheels and a jingle of harness. "Remember. Pages six, twelve, eighteen, twenty-four."

And then Glitch questioned whether he heard Raw's parting words correctly. Certainly Raw's smile had flashed even brighter as he tossed over his shoulder, "Work hard."

Glitch glanced down ruefully, where his flouncy coat fought a losing battle to preserve his modesty. Work hard. As if he had a choice.

oo0oo

The cabin was dim after the bright sun outside. Glitch entered with a sigh, stripping off the useless, hot and heavy coat. He shut the door against the heat of the day, wishing he could as easily douse the heat that consumed his thoughts and body.

But his body was still firmly in control, with an emphasis on firm, he thought, as he moved toward the bed, curiosity piqued as to what Raw had tossed there.

Sitting, he picked it up. It was a book, of sorts, slick pages gathered together, strung on a heavy silver ring through holes punched in the top left corner of each page. The cover was plain, just an ornate twining design. The ring, however, gave him some clue as to what was within, composed of the nude figure of a man on one side, on the other a woman's naked form, their arms extended overhead, meeting at the figures' hands to form the hinge of the ring.

He sighed. He'd gotten around, as he told Raw before, he had seen publications of this sort, entire shops in the Realm of the Unwanted and the seedier parts of Central City vending these wares. As though he needed any assistance in arousal. Gods. He hadn't had five minutes today unaroused… Well, there was no one here. His privacy was assured. He loosened the far too tight trousers, leaned back on the bed, and turned his attention to the book.

Flipping the cover back, he caught his breath at the first page, a richly detailed painting of a naked woman, arrayed like a banquet on a bed piled high with satiny hued pillows. And if he thought he was beyond further stimulation, his reaction to the picture showed him how wrong, just how wrong he had been. What had Raw said….control, and losing control. This was definitely not the time for control…

When he could see again, some minutes later, when his breath had returned to his body, he remembered the cryptic string of page numbers that Raw had uttered, his mathematical turn of mind calling forth the numbers amid the swirl of sexual energy pervading his thoughts. Six, twelve, eighteen, twenty-four.

He flipped through the book, a wonderfully indiscriminate sampling represented on its pages, women, men, couples…some painted in oils, some in watercolors, other more realistic formats…

Page six was a sketch, colored pencils, of a dark-haired beauty of a woman, all breasts, hips, thighs, her head thrown back in ecstasy, her lush body half-hidden, half-revealed in flowing folds of filmy golden silk, parting to reveal a tiny waist and the supple curve of her belly. He blinked. The woman looked like… No, that couldn't be right….

He moved to page twelve, and the mystery and certainty deepened. Page twelve was another pencil drawing, this a strongly built man, skin pale as moonlight, naked but for a roan leather vest, half shrugged off of one broad shoulder, turned away from the artist to reveal the powerful smooth curves of his backside. Above the collar of the vest, the man sported a short crop of white blond hair, and the quarter profile of his face revealed a strong jaw, a firm masculine mouth, and a half-closed, sultry but undeniably blue eye.

Barely able to turn the page now, his hands trembling as much as his body, he discovered page eighteen displayed a woman, less voluptuous than the golden silk beauty, but no less feminine, naked to the waist, a pair of mischievous blue eyes peeping out from beneath raven black bangs, her hair tumbling in cascading waves about her narrow shoulders. Her hands busied themselves at the waist of her undone trousers, pushing them down to reveal the curve of her hips, and the wisp of blue ruffled satin she wore beneath.

And page twenty four, as he had suspected, was one of the ancient people. No, not just one of them, he owned to himself, but a Viewer, a particular Viewer, Raw as Glitch had never seen him before, combed and oiled in an amazing portrait of enticing alien masculinity, wearing very little besides the same maddening smile Glitch had been treated to several times today….

Glitch groaned, desire sweeping in to claim him again. Before thought fled, he considered. Raw, the teacher. What was the lesson here? Besides the obvious, which he certainly did not need visual aids for. Control, Raw said. Perhaps, images of the people he was closest to, people he knew as friends, to free him from any embarrassing, overwhelming surges of desire? That made a certain…twisted…amount of sense.

The book fell from his hands, pages fanning out in an array of temptation, light chasing the nude curves of the figures on the silver binding ring.

Raw had also said, learning who he was now. What he wanted. Learning to lose control. To know that he was enough himself, whole enough, well enough, sane enough, to let go, to follow his heart. Ten days…to begin to learn where his heart might lead him. To tease out what, and who, he wanted.

Hard work, indeed.

oo0oo


End file.
